


Be My Love

by ami_ven



Category: The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
Genre: Community: writerverse, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4853483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dickon has found the perfect place to ask an important question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be My Love

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt [stone house with garden](http://s222.photobucket.com/user/gateship01/media/wdw/IMG_3003.jpg.html)

“Oh, Dickon!” said Mary, gazing at the little stone cottage with wide eyes. “Oh, it’s perfect!”

“I thought you might like it,” Dickon said, smiling. “With plenty o’ garden all around it.”

“Such a garden,” she agreed, and turned to grin at him. “And I’m sure you can name every plant and flower in it, can’t you?”

“Aye, I believe so.” Mary held out her hand and he took it, tucking her small fingers into the crook of his elbow. “Shall I start now?”

“Won’t the owner mind?” she countered.

Dickon grinned, the breathtaking, blinding grin that Mary adored. “Didn’ I say, Miss Mary? I know the owner well as any man might, seein’ as he’s me.”

“Oh, Dickon,” she said again. “I told you that you could make a good living with your gardening, and see? You’ve saved enough for the most perfect house on the moors, all to yourself.”

“Aye,” he said. “All to myself. Unless…”

She pulled away slightly to look at him, though her hand stayed on his arm. “Unless what?”

Dickon took a deep breath. “For all the splendor you see before ye here, Miss Mary, I am no’ a rich man. I’ve naught to offer a lady, e’en one as right-minded and practical as ye are. But I’m askin’ anyway. Faint heart ne’er won fair lady, and I’ve a very fair lady I’m keen to win.”

“Oh,” said Mary, more a breath than a word. “Oh, Dickon. Ask it proper, you must, or I’ll never believe it.”

He smiled. “Miss Mary Lennox, would you do a poor wild boy o’ the moors the great honor of agreeing to become his wife?”

“Yes, yes, of course!” she said, and threw herself into his arms.

THE END


End file.
